


Walk By Shredded Faith

by Bungie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Male Pregnancy, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-06 12:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11600886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bungie/pseuds/Bungie
Summary: “If I didn’t know you were a man, I’d say you were pregnant.” They had laughed about it then, but the longer it went on the more he thought about it. The more he thought about it the more he worried.Something happen the night deatheaters invaded Hogwarts. Lucius Malfoy stumbled upon those repercussions and life was never the same.





	1. Stumble

**Walk By Shredded Faith**

**By: Bungie**

 

**_Summary_ ** _: “If I didn’t know you were a man, I’d say you were pregnant.” They had laughed about it then, but the longer it went on the more he thought about it. The more he thought about it the more he worried._

_Something happen the night deatheaters invaded Hogwarts. Lucius Malfoy stumbled upon those repercussions and life was never the same._

**_Rating_ ** _: M with MA moments further down the line. If I choose to put explicit scenes in here I will either forewarn you or censor them and have them posted on AO3._

**_Disclaime_ ** _r: I own nothing that is recognizable from Harry Potter Canon. In original characters, ooc moments, or other such nonsense I take full credit for. Not that I get paid for either way._

**_Pairing:_ ** _Lucius/ Harry Potter_

**_Warnings:_ ** _This is slash! So…don’t like don’t read. You have been forewarned so don’t flame me or I’ll have to get mean. You won’t like me when I’m mean._

 

 

 

**Chapter One:** _Stumble_    

The night air was muggy and the strong scent that could only be found down Britain’s notoriously dark alley, a bittersweet smell of burning oils and rotting fruit, clung to the outside of his dark cloak. He breathed deeply as he left the narrow cobblestoned paths of knockturn Alley and entered the main-strip of Diagon Alley, the road sparse considering how late it was.

His footsteps were sure, a reflection of his superior breeding, and those who littered the street moved unconsciously out of his way despite the heavy hood that shadowed his face and identity. He smirked and turned off onto Diurne Alley, a relatively new street that was more for everyday things such as haircuts and where restaurants were located.

The street lamps sputtered a bit and he slowed his walk as his gaze caught the store front of a shop for babies.

He nearly sneered.

The sight of a transfigured doll clapping at movements of a dragon mobile, its roaring figurines breathing out fairy lights instead of flames, made his stomach churn. He was surprisingly grateful the hood hid his grimace from any passersby.

It wasn’t the children themselves that irritated him, though to be honest, he really didn’t know what to do with them either. His own son, regretfully (and sometimes not-so-regretfully), was mostly raised by the house elves. He turned out alright, though a bit weak willed. He didn’t really have a hand in raising him until the boy was perhaps five summers old. The biggest thing about that he wished he could change was the fact he raised his son in the same way his own father raised him.

Considering how much he quietly hated his father, _that_ said more that he wished it did. He scratched his eyebrow at that thought. An old habit he created to remind himself to be stoic, to ease his frowning brows, _to never let them see._

He allowed a growl to reverberate in his mind.

No. The problem was the whining harpy he called a wife. Narcissa had been a beauty when he had first married her, and he could admit that she still was. The Black family, at that point in time, had been high in society and one of the wealthiest families in Great Britain. The Malfoy family, though capable of tracing their lineage back at least thirty or so generations, were still considered a relatively new family on the isle considering they were originally from France. Much of the Malfoy family were still there, actually. The main branch had moved to the isle when his own Grandfather decided to relocate in order to avoid the problems of Grindelwald. His father, having grown up with the Blacks during his Hogwarts years, had become good friends with Arcturus Black and used him to tie an alliance between the families. He had been open to developing a good marriage with Narcissa, something he knew his parents didn’t have. But that was never to be. Narcissa hadn’t slept in the same bed as him since the healers confirmed she was pregnant with Draco.

 However, now she suddenly wanted another child, wanted to feel like the mother she never truly was to their son. It was a relatively recent thing, one he had been considering the source of for a while. Perhaps her change of heart came when she ventured back into their home from one of her many tryst over the years, ones he had spoken little of mostly because whatever he could have felt for her had burnt away with the first, and came to his bedroom with a sultry smile, eyes full of desire, only for him to slam the door in her face with a raised eyebrow.  Or perhaps it was when Draco, his son in _every way_ at that moment, looked her straight in the eye after her request for his company at a mother/ son luncheon (an invitation that was more for her to be _seen_ as a mother than the recognition of being one) and with the same raised brow he received from his Father said, “I’d rather not. You should ask Edward. Isn’t that the name of Maurice Harcourt’s son? I’m sure he’d love to go with you.” He watched as Draco gave a gentle smile, even if his eyes were sharp as glass, before walking serenely out the dining doors.

That was the closest moment he’d come to losing his fine-tuned control and laughing at the soured face of his wife in a _very_ long time.   

He continued to stare into the store in contemplation, absently watching as a cloaked customer filled an obviously extended bag full of acquired things. His wife…He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. However, his instincts told him the biggest reason had something to do with the contract.

Merlin how he hated that contract. Maybe it was time he pulled it out again and looked it over. It had been years after all.

He was just beginning to turn and continue on his way when the customer he had silently been observing came out, hands gripping the front of their cloak tightly, and began walking quickly in the opposite direction. He would have ignored it if his magic hadn’t gently brushed against theirs for the briefest moments and _recognized._

What was _Harry Potter_ doing down Diurne Alley, shopping in a baby store, in the middle of an October night?

Lucius, with quiet steps, made a u-turn and followed. Casting disillusionment charms and sound softeners on his feet, he watched as the figure continued to walk briskly, turning back onto Diagon Alley and heading towards the leaky cauldron.

Never let it be said that a Malfoy couldn’t be curious. And this was a most curious situation. He cast his thoughts over the things he heard over the last couple months regarding Potter as he continued his pursuit, feeling slightly out of water as the main subject walked past the dining room of the Leaky Cauldron and out into Muggle London.

It had been a little over a year since what he had mentally dubbed the ‘ministry incident’. His ability to grab the prophecy at the last second before it was broken was the only thing that had saved him from his master’s ire. Because of this Draco had been saved from being the unwilling participant for what the Dark Lord had planned this recent year. Instead he entrusted that fully to Severus…who killed Dumbledore and allowed death eaters into the school.

Looking back, he can’t recall there ever being a word spoken in the meetings about Harry Potter. It was like he hadn’t been there at all. Which was suspicious…considering the boy was so close to being the embodiment of Gryffindor, Lucius wouldn’t be surprised if the boy died a martyr. If he hadn’t been there, wand blazing and mouth screaming, he wondered where he had been…

Not to mention that it had been a quietly hushed secret until mid-way through August that the youngest Potter was missing. In fact, according to reports, the boy hadn’t gone home when they left Hogwarts so no one, not even his friends, knew where he was.

An uproar had gone out when, on September 1, Harry Potter did not appear on the Hogwarts train. Which was less a surprise that he wasn’t there considering Severus had taken over, and more a surprise that he _wasn’t_ there while the one Hermione Granger and one Ronald Weasley _were_. Lucius knew that both the Order’s members and the Death Eaters had been scouring everywhere for that boy.

And here Lucius Malfoy was. Strolling down a street when he stumbles across him.

How fortuitous.

He watched as the boy walked through a muggle station and boarded a train. He followed him, observing little strange things he hadn’t noticed before. Like how small the boy’s hands were when he gripped his cloak closed, how he sort of shuffled in his walk in a way that gave the impression that he was carrying something heavy in front of him, and how easily he lost his breath when walking for long distances. The last one being rather unusual cause though he remembered the boy being unusually small, he was also rather fit.

He watched as Potter left the train after several exits, getting off at what he read from the signs as Bedfordshire. He watched as the boy walked a couple blocks before venturing off down a cobbled stone road. The homes on this street looked older, not wealthy in the traditional sense, just older. As he looked closer he could read hanging signs for a town bar, a pharmacy, and an inn with a red roof.

Potter kept walking until the buildings slowly disappeared and, rounding a bend, he could see a medium sized cottage sitting on an acre of flat ground below a hill.

It was…quaint. It wasn’t to his standards, of course, but it was not hideous to look at. He reasoned that it fit the scenery. 

The boy walked into the front room and Lucius quickly followed, noting how the fire automatically came to life.

Potter walked further into the room, throwing off his cloak and dropping his bag of purchases on a brown leather chair. His back was to Lucius as he shuffled into the kitchen to make tea. His deep exhale of breath releasing whatever tension he had in his shoulders.

“Well, Well, Well…what do we have here?” Lucius wouldn’t lie to himself. He felt a shiver of excitement when the boy’s shoulders tensed back up at the sound of his voice. Potter didn’t turn around, however, his hands seemed to be frozen in a hovering motion over the pot of water he was getting ready to fill.

“Imagine my surprise when I came across the familiar taste of your magic coming out of a baby store of all places.” He chuckled mockingly here. Surprised he still hadn’t gotten a bigger reaction. “Then I followed you all the way here. Tell me, Potter, why are you hiding out in this-,” he shuddered in fake revulsion, “would you call this a house?”

He could tell he was pissing the boy off. His fists had curled around the handle of the teapot, the grip white knuckled and tight. He wondered if Potter was considering chucking it at him.

He frowned slightly.

The boy still refused to turn and face him.

He didn’t understand why, but it was sending jolts of irritation into his chest. Potter didn’t _get_ to ignore him.

He let his wrist flick, his wand flicking into his hand. Once the Dark Lord had returned, his wand had found its home moved from his cane to his wrist, not just for convenience, but for safety.

“Face me Potter, or I will make you.” He watched with unwavering attention as the boy lifted his the pot and slowly turned to him.

The first thing he noticed was the boy’s green eyes. Those blazing eyes full of anger and frustration, a hint of fear and heavy amount of defiance. They were fierce and intense and as they gazed at him, Lucius felt something settle in his stomach. As though something he had missed without realizing had returned.

The second thing Lucius noticed was the rounded protrusion. Potter’s stomach was noticeably extended as he turned fully around and the draped robe that split with an opening around it only made the obvious more obvious. Potter was pregnant.

Lucius went blank for moment, his wand going slightly slack in his hand. There was confusion, denial, and a sharp taste of something he couldn’t name. Wouldn’t name. He pushed the last feeling to the back of his mind and focused on the others, his eyes narrowing back on a now amused Potter’s face.

“Do you want some tea, Mr. Malfoy?” He didn’t wait for a response, simply shuffled that awkward walk towards the sink where he filled the pot with tea only to shuffle back to the stove.

“Are-“, he quickly cleared his throat, “Are you really pregnant?”

Potter had turned back to face the stove, his movements slow. Intentionally so. He clearly didn’t want to be having this conversation.

“That’s what the healers tell me.” He swallowed.

“How?”

“I’d rather not discuss the how with you, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Who?”

“That’s a question I don’t believe is your business, Mr. Malfoy.” He could have growled at that response. He had to think more on his wording. He paused for a moment to think.  

“How long till you give birth?”

“About four and half months.” He watched as Potter poured two cups full of water. Moving to grab tea from another cabinet.

“Hmm. Considering that male pregnancies are only eight months to a woman’s nine…you’ve been pregnant since…end of June, perhaps?” Potter tensed again and Lucius felt an almost wicked sense of satisfaction because of it.

“Tell me Potter, when did you get pregnant? Was it on June 24? Was it during the attack? What were you doing? Being held up somewhere with your legs spread getting f-?” The two cups filled with water burst, the water spilling out over the counter top.

He watched with anticipation as Potter turned towards him, but instead of the fierce fire he was looking forward to only dull green stared back. He felt his heart sink a little, though he didn’t understand why.

“Get out.” The voice was little more than a whisper, yet it echoed like a whip moving through air and Lucius felt himself flinch slightly because of it.

“Get out now.” The front door swung open, an obvious invitation, but Lucius didn’t move. He continued to stare at Potter, trying to read what just happened. He was missing something, but whatever it was kept slipping through his fingers.

“You know, if I leave now, I could just go and tell the Dark Lord what I found out today, even where you live?” Potters response was quick.

“By all means, go ahead. I’ll be gone before you get back and I guarantee that this time you won’t find me.” Well, that was as much a promise as he’d ever heard. The words rung with finality, and something about them made him desperate. Desperate for what he wasn’t sure, but he had to fix this- whatever this was.

“Let’s make a deal, Potter.” The boy frowned, his eyes clearing into a more vibrant and _aware_ color. Something that made him unbelievably relieved.

“What kind of deal?”

“I’ll make an Unbreakable Vow to you that I won’t tell the Dark Lord where you are or about your pregnancy.”

“…And what do you want in exchange?”

“Just a favor. A favor of my choosing whenever I choose it.” Potter looked to be thinking it over before sighing.

“I’ll agree as long as the favor will not hurt my child physically, mentally, spiritually, or emotionally in anyway.”

Nothing he didn’t expect.

Lucius responded by lifting his wand, “I, Lucius Cassian Malfoy, do hereby swear on my magic to keep Harry James Potter’s pregnancy and location secret from the Dark Lord in exchange for a favor of my choosing that does not impair his child physically, mentally, spiritually, or emotionally, so mote it be.” He watched satisfied as magic cloaked him with a tight band. There was obvious ways around such a vow, but Mr. Potter wasn’t well versed in politics to know.

He strapped his wand back to the inside of his wrist, smirking at Potter’s bewildered face. He turned and moved towards the still open door, glancing over his shoulder for a moment.

“I’ll let you know when I’m ready to collect.” That said, he turned and strolled out the door, the memory of fiery green eyes still stuck in his mind. Now that he’d gotten Potter, hopefully for the foreseeable future, to stay in one place he’d have more time to unravel the mystery. In the meantime, he really should figure out the reason behind his own reactions. It was just…un-malfoy like to be so out of control of one’s own emotions. 

***

 

          Harry continued to stand in his kitchen, his eyes focused on the closed door with unwavering intensity. So much had happened and changed in the last couple of months, this on top of everything else was hard to digest.

          Just a few short months ago he had been working through his anger over his Godfather dying, leaning on his friends for stability, and learning under Dumbledore things about Voldemort he never wished to know, but had to know if he wanted to live and not just survive. Harry didn’t know who he hated more: Voldemort for being the obsessive psychopath he was, Dumbledore for being the manipulative, ‘for the greater good’ liar he was, or the bloody oracle who made the prophecy in the first place.

          Either way, the last relatively normal day (or normal for him), he could remember was leaving Dumbledore’s office after returning from a horcrux hunt. The necklace was a fake and Dumbledore had allowed him to take the imitation with him. It was when he was nearing the stairs to the Gryfindor tower that he heard the screams on the other side of the castle. Sounds of battle and the castle itself shook and he knew, way before the scream that Dumbledore was dead had reached him, that there were deatheaters in the school. He had turned on his heel then and ran towards the other side of the castle, only to be blasted into a wall at some point. He had been dazed and disoriented from hitting his head on the stone wall that he couldn’t fight whoever was dragging him into a dark, unused classroom in the part of the castle no one really went.

          Gaining his barings, he had tried to fight but his wand had already been removed and he had always been small and petite for his age and gender. His screams weren’t heard and the sounds of battle were muted in the room. He couldn’t tell if it was over quickly or if it was the longest moments of his life. He never saw who did it, and he never wanted to. Couldn’t bare knowing that someone had made him feel more weak and powerless than Voldemort or a dementor ever had.

          He had lain there on the floor after it was over, in too much pain to move and wanting to cry, but being unable to. His mind barely registered gentle hands replacing his clothes and, what felt like, an apologetic kiss on his ear, his cheek, and his brow. He hated it because that meant that whoever had done this was someone he knew, someone who was close enough to regret when the heat of the moment was over.

          After the sound of a door opening and closing was heard, he managed to find the strength to curl up in a ball. Laying there he allowed himself to think. To think about his life and how it had led to all of this. Laying there, he wondered what he was going to do next. He couldn’t face his friends, or at least not the friends he had left. Ron had drifted away during the year, blaming him for what happened at the ministry and Harry wasn’t in the mood to entertain or try to fix the growing rift. He had instead, turned towards Hermione, Luna, and Neville. They had his back through all of this, but he couldn’t imagine facing them now.

          He felt so…dirty. Used and discarded. He wondered, if he ever defeated Voldemort, would the wizarding world discard him as well? Would he live his life being used only to be discarded whenever his use was finished?

          Those thoughts in mind, he had sat up through the pain and the haze, and asked for Dobby. The excitable elf was all smiles and floppy ears until he saw the state ‘the great and powerful Harry Potter’ was in. Then he was all tears and wringing hands. Harry smiled bitterly at Dobby’s sympathy, though at least the elf was genuine, and asked for all of his things to be packed and brought to him.

          He’d leave and go into hiding for a while. There were things he needed to think about, things he had to consider. Part of him wanted to run-away and never look back, and for once, he was going to indulge that un-gryffindorish mindset. He’d come back in September…maybe. But for now he just needed to get away. He didn’t care what was going on in the castle. He didn’t care who died or got hurt, for that moment at least, he was going to only worry about himself.

          When Dobby came back, he requested for the elf to apparate him to muggle London, close to the Leaky Caldron. Once there he bought a room in a muggle hotel and stayed there for a little over a month. It had been the kind of reprieve he needed. He didn’t think about the wizarding world, aside from the events that poured over and made it onto the muggle news, and he sure as hell didn’t think about what happened in the dark room.

          No. He spent his time shopping around muggle London, seeing sights he had never seen before and buying everything he needed or wanted with the money that he let Dobby take out of Gringotts. Soon he began noticing patterns that became stronger as the days went by, things like being tired and wired cravings and, after a month had passed, morning sickness. He mentioned it to the hotel receptionist, a sweet, 40-something, brunette who he had become friends with during his stay.

          “If I didn’t know you were a man, I’d say you were pregnant.” They had laughed about it then, but the longer it went on the more he thought about it. The more he thought about it the more he worried.

          Finally, he decided to hail the knight bus and go to Mungos. Covering himself with a dark cloak so his face would stay hidden, he managed to avoid conversations with Stan and arrived at the doors of Mungos during a relatively slow hour. Face still shadowed, he requested a check-up after listing his symptoms. Thirty-minutes later he was shown into a, surprisingly, clean room.

          He kept his hood on when the healer appeared and requested an oath that he wouldn’t reveal his identity or any information he discovered here.

          “Sir, all healers have taken an Oath to never reveal their patients identities or ailments. Nothing you say or show me will be made public without your explicit and documented permission.” Relieved, Harry removed his cloak and held back a laugh at the healer’s sharp breath.

          “Well I see now why you wanted to make sure your identity remained secret. What can I do for you today, Mr. Potter?” Harry smiled at the dismissal of his identity and told the healer what he was experiencing. He watched as the man waved his wand around a couple times, his pen automatically jotting down notes on a clipboard that he couldn’t see.

          “Have you had any sexual activity recently, Mr. Potter?” The man seemed amused, though his expression turned to worry when Harry’s froze and blinked back tears. He had begun to accept what had happened by this point, though he was far from over it.

          “Not…not willing.”

          “I…see.” The frown between the healer’s brows was sympathetic, though Harry was grateful that the conversation didn’t dwell on the subject.

          “On that note then, Mr. Potter, I am regretful to have to inform you that you are pregnant.” Harry shuttered. His suspicion had been realized he just didn’t know how.

          “How? I am a man aren’t I?” The healer smiled gently.

          “Of course, Mr. Potter. But magic is a wonderful and amazing thing. It has the ability to conceive a child when the parents feel strongly for one another and the parents have enough magical power to sustain it.”

          ‘But…I don’t understand. I don’t know who…why…what if I hated this person? Would I have still gotten pregnant?” He felt like he was on the verge of tears, his hands clenched in frustration. He already knew the one who did it had to have known him or been close to him for him to have kissed him in such a way, but to have this confirmation. To know that it was someone close enough to him for feelings to be strong enough to produce a child…it scalded his insides.

          “Hate is a strong emotion. It is quite possible that those emotions could capitulate both of your magics to create a womb and everything need for conception. Regardless of the how, though, you are pregnant. You are still in the early stages, however, do you want to terminate?”

          Harry’s hands clenched almost painfully around his abdomen. He seriously considered going through with termination for a moment. Taking in the fact that he was caring the child of someone who had hurt him badly. He wondered how he would feel when he looked at the child and saw someone he recognized, a reminder and a revelation all in one. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

          But then, regardless of all that, this was his child. This was his family. The baby didn’t ask for how it came to be or by whom, it just was. Who was he to take away a life before it got a chance to live? He would love this child, not because of who gave it to him but because it was his. That’s all he needed to understand.

          He shook his head at the healer. “No. It’s mine. I’ll protect it and raise them with a lot of love.” It was quiet in the room for a moment. Harry accepting the weight of his decision and the healer smiling at his decision. 

          The healer coughed to break the quiet.

          “Alright. If that is your decision then we need to discuss other issues. You are severely malnourished and underweight. If you do not rectify it, it will put you and the baby in danger further along. You have to take the normal pre-natal vitamins, but also nutrient supplements in order to keep you both at a steady pace. The further along you go the more the child will be draining you of your magic and nutrients. Since the father isn’t here, all of it will be coming from you. Usually the Father and bearer will be able to split the magic drain, but it won’t be the same for you due to…circumstances. In any case, you need to get your body up to a certain weight by the time the baby’s sex can be determined. That is around the time the magic drain increases. I recommend you eat as much as you can whenever you can. Listen to the cravings your body is telling you, you have them for a reason. And above all, avoid stress! Your body is under a lot of stress, and considering who you are, I understand. But you need to avoid it. It will not just stress you, but the baby. It will weaken your immune system and magic, and if your body and magic are weak, so too will the baby. “

          Harry nodded. He had already planned to avoid the stress everything had been causing him, he now had a bigger reason to.

          He left Mungos in a weird state of confusion, anxiety, and optimism. His spent the entire trip back to the hotel plotting his next steps, steps that included finding a permanent place of residence, avoiding Voldemort, his lackeys, and the order of the phoenix, and staying stress free.

          A couple days later, he moved into his very own two bedroom cabin. It was a perfect little quaint place on the outskirts of a small muggle town that reminded him of Godric’s Hollow, though smaller. He had named the place Haven Hill since it was a sanctuary of sorts, and once he figured out a how to put a fidelius on it, it would be a place no one could find him.

          His spent the next month or so reading up on male pregnancies and getting his health up to snuff. He wouldn’t risk his child’s life because he couldn’t keep up with his own.

          Then there was today.

The one day he had ventured out to try and find an unregistered wand and things to prepare himself for having the baby. The one day he had forgotten his invisibility cloak at home and didn’t bother Dobby to apparate back because he wanted to enjoy ‘the scenic route’. The one day he decides to be not so cautious is the one day that bloody fucking Lucius Malfoy followed him home.

The man was like an Adonis, Harry could admit to himself. All chiseled man and long, silky blonde hair and Icy eyes that were unnaturally hot at times. But he was arrogant. He was surprised the man could walk with how far his head was up his own arse. The memory of the elder Malfoy’s comment about having his legs up in the air and getting fucked made him almost see red. It made him seethed. The very insinuation that he _wanted_ what had happen to happen pissed him off.

He didn’t trust the man further than he could throw him without magic and that was not far at all. He may have gotten a magical oath out of Malfoy, but the man had clearly thought he couldn’t see his way out of such an oath. Malfoy underestimated him and that was fine.

It was Malfoy who had sworn not to tell Voldemort his location in exchange for a favor. The request for a favor was suspicious in and of itself, but Harry didn’t allow himself to dwell on it. He said he wouldn’t leave Haven Hill and he wouldn’t. No. He would just make Malfoy forget his location. But first there were things he needed to get.

He still needed an unregistered wand.

He needed someone he trusted.

He needed the incantation to the Fidelius.

Then again, after three days had passed and a knock on his door revealed a surprisingly ruffled and _smoking_ Lucius Malfoy on the verge of unconsciousness standing on his welcome mat, he hadn’t exactly expected the man to show up so soon.

***

 

 

 

A/N: Lucius Malfoy/ Harry Potter fanfiction inspired off a host of other stories such as some of Slayer-of Destiny’s Unexpected Developments and Meant to Be by Phoenixmaiden13. They were inspirations but I don’t plan on this story being anywhere close to the way those went so you can’t consider this a rip off. I did however want to give credit where credit is due since both of those authors are two of my favorites and I respect their work. If you haven’t read any of their work then please check them out.

I’m open to sweetly said criticism, if you flame me I’ll be rude and if you have the balls enough to say something nastily have the balls to post your name too. I want to know whose speaking to me so I can respond. If you’re nice I’ll be nice back. Don’t hide behind a computer. I’ve dropped writing fanfiction before simply because someone thought they had the right to be cruel, I’m trying again so don’t ruin it for me.

 


	2. Hobble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Potter.” His voice was practically a vibration. “Why the hell am I naked in your bed?!”

**Walk By Shredded Faith**

**By: Bungie**

 

**_Summary_ ** _: “If I didn’t know you were a man, I’d say you were pregnant.” They had laughed about it then, but the longer it went on the more he thought about it. The more he thought about it the more he worried._

_Something happen the night deatheaters invaded Hogwarts. Lucius Malfoy stumbled upon those repercussions and life was never the same._

**_Rating_ ** _: M with MA moments further down the line. If I choose to put explicit scenes in here I will either forewarn you or censor them and have them posted on AO3._

**_Disclaime_ ** _r: I own nothing that is recognizable from Harry Potter Canon. In original characters, ooc moments, or other such nonsense I take full credit for. Not that I get paid for either way._

**_Pairing:_ ** _Lucius/ Harry Potter_

**_Warnings:_ ** _This is slash! So…don’t like don’t read. You have been forewarned so don’t flame me or I’ll have to get mean. You won’t like me when I’m mean._

 

**_Chapter Warning:_ ** _There is a bit of sexual references and/or depictions in this chapter though there are no sex scenes. You have been warned._

Chapter Two: Hobble

Harry sat in his small living room, his caramel arm chair facing the matching love seat where he had managed to awkwardly drag the elder Malfoy and drop him after the man passed out. The blonde had managed a croaked, “favor...hide me…,” before his eyes had rolled back and his body tipped over into Harry's arms.

Observing him, Harry noted that the blonde was without his cane and quite possibly his wand. The man’s skin was flushed red, sweat clinging to his brow as if in a fever and his clothes were still smoking as if he had run through a fire. He hadn’t moved much since Harry had dropped him off on the couch besides the minor twitches of his body that seemed entirely unnatural and uncontrolled.

Harry was reminded of the cruciatus. He wouldn’t be surprised if Malfoy had gotten on the wrong side of the Dark Lord and was running from his ire.

It was… interesting to observe Lucius Malfoy like this. In this position his face was relatively unguarded, pinched as if in pain but still open in a way Harry had never noticed before. The man’s cheekbones were high and obviously aristocratic, his top lip thin while the bottom was full. His lashes weren’t extremely long and were so lightly colored you would almost think he didn’t have any. Eyebrows finely arched and silky hair pulled from its normal tie and displayed over his caramel pillow like waves of…of…Harry couldn’t think of a word to describe the color. It was lighter than regular blonde but not quite white or silver, almost like lightly churned butter or like the rays of sunlight that streamed through his windows.

He coughed and swallowed, a small blush covering his cheeks in embarrassment. He didn’t want to be looking at the Elder Malfoy so closely, but it was hard considering the man’s looks. It didn’t changed the fact that Lucius Malfoy was in the top three of his most hated people, his position only surpassed by Voldemort and that psychopath, Bellatrix Lestrange.

Then again he might hate Snape more than the blonde, it was really up for debate.

Those thoughts slipped away when the man began groaning. Pushing past his own reservations and allowing real concern to take over, Harry hobbled across the small space and placed his hands on the man’s forehead.

He was sweltering. Touching the man’s clothing, he was amazed (and a bit horrified) to see that the man wasn’t smoking, he was _steaming._ His clothes were damp, from either an outside source of water or his own sweat, and the heat of his body was causing it to evaporate. He had never heard of this happening before, but magicals tended to suffer from different ailments than muggles. He didn’t think it was a natural disease or contagious. If it was, Malfoy would have went to Mungos and not to him.

Floundering for a minute, because despite how much he hated the man he wasn’t the type to throw out a sick person or someone in need, Harry managed to pull the man onto his feet by his arm and shoulder him up the stairs to a guest room. Malfoy flopped onto the mattress in much the same way he did to the couch, only now he was a bit more vocal. A sign he was coming to consciousness.

He had managed to get the man’s robe and one of his boots off before hands pulled him back against a firm chest, arms wrapping around him like a steel cage. His body froze for a moment, surprised and too overwhelmed to properly digest the situation. He did begin to struggle, however, when the lap beneath him began to grind against him, the firm appendage hidden beneath layers of clothes (and how the hell had he not noticed _that_ ) sliding against his back. Fear struck like lightening, flashbacks blinking behind his eyes with enough clarity to cause him to hyperventilate.

He would forever deny the tears that had burned his eyes as the litany of ‘ _no no no’_ echoed in his mind.

“MALFOY,” he all but growled, “what the hell do you think you are **doing**?! LET ME GO!”

Surprisingly, the arms seized for a moment before releasing him as if he was a disease. Leaping from the bed he turned around, magic humming underneath his skin, only to see the man’s eyes looking at him dazedly. Malfoy was breathing hard, but not out of exertion. His body was shivering, the breaths coming from his mouth sounding as if they were being dragged out while attached to rattling chains.

Harry was at a lost. He didn’t know what was happening.

“Sorry…Potter…,” Malfoy’s dazed eyes were still looking at the wall beside Harry’s head as he swallowed, “Potion…can’t control…need…need so bad…so…hot…”Harry watched as the man’s eyes fell shut, passing out again.

This must be worse than he was aware of if Malfoy was so out of it that he apologized.

Harry frowned, trying to digest everything. It was obvious that, for once, Malfoy hadn’t meant to assault him. Something was going on with Malfoy’s body that was out of his control and sounded like it was the effects of some kind of potion. Unfortunately for Lucius Malfoy, Harry Potter was mediocre at Potions on his best day, and positively dangerous at them on his worse. He wouldn’t know where to start to help the man except to keep him stable enough to work the potion out of his system on its own. Depending on the potion, though, that could take anywhere from three to seven days…if he was remembering his textbook right.

It would be just his luck if it was actually more.

He sighed and tried to shake off the residual feeling of forceful hands on his body. Harry had been through some traumatic experiences in his life, his mind and body had been trained to let things go and move on. The _Experience_ (something he had mentally dubbed as the reference for the Hogwarts’ incident), however, was something entirely different and wouldn’t easily let go of him regardless of how much he wanted to move on. He wouldn’t kill himself about, he would just keep pressing forward. If not for him then for his child.

He shook himself from his thoughts and finished taking off the man’s boots. Malfoy’s clothes were soaked and it would be better for him if Harry removed them, but regardless of whether or not Malfoy meant grabbing him or not, Harry was currently not in the most charitable mood. He simply flipped the dark blankets of the mattress on top of him. Hopefully Malfoy would be able to sweat the fever out.

He stood back with a huff. He was months away from his due date and already the baby was sapping so much of his energy. He'd been eating better than he ever had, his body finally getting use to three square meals a day with liberal snacks in between. Still, he was beginning to feel the drain on his magic. It wouldn't be so bad if he had help, but for obvious reasons that wasn't the case. He'd just have to suck it up and deal.

He shuffled downstairs, his balance leaving him for a moment when he tripped down a few steps and had to quickly grab the banister. He frowned for a moment, his legs having become jelly-like for a split second, before shaking it off with a chuckle under his breath. Now was not the time to be clumsy.

Pouring himself a hot cup of tea he returned to what he was doing before he was rudely interrupted: jumping between his male pregnancy book and his history of magic.

History of magic, when you moved passed what Professor Binns discussed and the “Hogwarts Approved” material, was quite literally fascinating. Harry had picked up a couple of books, two of which were written by explorers outside the U.K and then translated, on a whim.

Delilah Lamaire, one of the youngest explorers of her time had researched the catacombs beneath Paris by tracing sights of major magical battles and patterns of tombs belonging to magical royalty that had been all but forgotten. Her findings had led her to one of biggest discoveries of this era: another veil of death in the heart of the hidden catacombs.

The fact that England's own veil of death was still considered a mystery had only increased the immensity of the find. The department of mysteries were practically spelling down the woman's door for information and requests for investigation.

It was of particular interest to Harry, especially since the debacle at the ministry and...well...Sirius.

And then there was Roman. Reportedly an American explorer in both the muggle and magical world. He held credentials in both worlds as an archeologist and Rune specialist, despite the fact that no one knew his last name or if the name he was known by was a real one and not an alias. His picture had never made it to publication and any dig or site he was researching on was highly guarded. He was a mystery and an enigma, and if Harry was reading his book right, the man got a kick out of it.

_“We all must leave this world eventually. I am merely setting the stage of a new mystery for future explorers to discover.”_

Harry had a feeling there was more to that statement than anyone could possibly understand, but the main purpose was obvious. Roman wanted to be the very mystery he searched so hard to find. The book itself didn’t discuss in detail any specific discovery, but was rather more concerned with telling the reader the dangers and accomplishment that came with exploring. It was a dangerous Job. Roman had nearly been killed on just about every investigation he had taken. Once he had nearly been possessed by the cursed remains of a witch who had been murdered in the Salaam area of America in the 1700’s, a piece of American history that had made it even into Hogwart’s history books. Another time, on one of the more active ventures, he had lost an arm to a sea dragon (and Harry didn’t even know those existed), when he was investigating reports of Atlantis off the coasts of Venezuela and Guyana. It turned out to be a false alarm, though there were new discoveries that the Aztecs had ventured further south than the muggles had discovered and were incredibly more advanced.

Then there were the accomplishments. Roman had been the one to find out that big foot was real and _that_ has led to even more questions since the creature has, reportedly, been tested to have more in common with muggles than wizards. How was that even possible? It gave the idea that there was more differences between wizards and muggles than just magic. Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about that but he couldn’t deny he was curious. The man had also been involved in the major discovery of the great tomb of Magical pharaohs in Egypt, on finding the true history of Princess Anastasia (a muggleborn witch) and her unknown affair with the Warlock Rasputin, and on the discovery of a hidden archive in Japan dated all the way back to the meiji era, one that was discovered in a cave with an expansive underground network and guarded by runes that hadn’t even been _heard of,_ let alone seen, in a couple hundred years.

Harry couldn’t help it. The more he read about the man the more he became a fan, and the more he read about explorers and adventurers, the more he wanted to be a part of something like that. He didn’t know how he could do something like that now, though.

He rubbed his belly with a sigh. He hadn’t thought about it before, but his entire future had just changed. There was a piece of him, hidden and he hoped it stayed like that, which was bitter. He was going to be a parent. He hadn’t chose to be, nor did he volunteer. No…it was a decision that was forced upon him like so many others. Perhaps that’s what he hated most about it all. Everyone seemed to expect him to act and move and do certain things with no discussion, no request, and no compassion for his feelings. It made him want to run. Run further than he ever had before.

The more it played around in his head, the more he considered it as a real decision. Why not just leave? He had a choice in how he chose to live his life, didn’t he? He didn’t want his own child to be raised like he was, of course. He didn’t want to risk making his own child an orphan. The father was an unknown and even if he was known he still wouldn’t be an option. If something happen to Harry (a strong possibility if he stayed here and was forced into the war), what would happen to his child? It wasn’t something he thought about before, but now that it had crossed his mind it wouldn’t leave.

He sipped his, now cold, tea before promptly choking on it at the sound of something large falling to the ground and a human pain filled groan suddenly echoed from upstairs.

He pushed himself up quickly and rushed upstairs, his stomach making his movements more awkward then they needed to be. He stumbled into the door frame of his second bedroom and paused, his breath catching at the sight.

Malfoy had thrown the blankets off, his face practically pouring sweat with his hair sticky in stringy patches against his face and neck. He was growling like a wild animal, his hands gripped his button up shirt and were trying to literally rip it off. And succeeding too. The sound of shredding fabric could be heard the more he pulled, buttons popping off and flying across the room. Once his skin had been exposed he paused, taking in big gulps of air, before moving to his pants. Harry could tell by the tenting of Malfoy’s slacks that the man was aroused, painfully so if the man’s reaction was anything to go by as he slowly (movements in complete contrast with how he had taken off his shirt) slid the dark fabric down over his thighs and legs. When his sex was exposed, the member jumping up and flushed a violent red, Malfoy practically wept. His hands hovered around it as though he wanted to touch it in order to gain some relief, but it was too painful to actually follow through with what he wanted.

Harry stood there watching in worried contemplation. Pushing back his own body’s reaction at such a sight, he considered everything he had observed so far. It didn’t paint a nice picture. The only thing that came to mind was that Malfoy had been drugged in some way by a potion with similar properties to the muggle drug ecstasy, or even rohypnol. He only knew about the drugs through stories from the news and overhearing Dudley’s conversations. The second of which he would love to forget.

The question now was why did someone give Malfoy such a potion and how to help the man in the mean time?

Sighing, he walked over to another door and opened it to reveal the bathroom. He ran a bath of cool water and added some of the lavender scented oil a shop attendant recommended on one of his outings with the hope to calm the man down. Once the bath was ready he moved back to the room. Malfoy had turned over onto his stomach, his body lightly grinding against the mattress in hopes of gaining some relief. Harry swallowed and moved to the side of the bed.

“Malfoy.’ His voice was low. He frowned when the man ignored him, whimpers crawling from his throat constantly. “Malfoy.” A little louder now. No response. “MALFOY.” Still no response. Sighing Harry reached over and touched the man’s shoulder. “Lucius.”

This time he got a response. The body beneath his hand stilled and bleary eyes opened to look at him.

“…hurts…” His voice was so soft he could barely hear it, and wouldn’t have if the room wasn’t already quiet.

“I know. Let me help you.” He reached his hand out for the man to grasp. A shaky pause before a strong, yet sweaty hand gripped his. Harry pulled, guiding the man into a sitting position and then over to the edge of the bed. “Come on, Lucius. That’s it.”

Malfoy was still shaky so couldn’t stand on his own. Harry had to let the man lean over his back, ignoring the firmness pressed behind him and the nuzzling face against his neck. Once they made it to the bathroom, he guided the man into the bath, watching amazed as the blonde sighed in relief even as the water began to steam.

Perhaps something cold to drink would help as well. Harry nodded, before turning to leave only for Malfoy’s hand to latch onto his wrist firmly. When Harry glanced over his shoulder in surprise, Malfoy was leaning halfway out of the tub, his eyes looking up at him pleadingly.

Harry’s mouth went dry. Not only had he not known the man could give such look, he didn’t know what to do about being on the receiving end of it.

“Don’t worry, Malfoy, I’ll be back. I’m just going to get you something cool to drink.” He watched as the man tried to swallow, probably now only realizing just how thirst he was, before a frown appeared.

“Lucius.” His voice was raspy, but stronger than it had been. Harry turned around completely out of confusion.

“What?”

“You called me Lucius before. Call me by my name now. Not Malfoy.” Harry didn’t really understand why it mattered, but seeing as it would be easier to distinguish in his mind between Lucius and his son, he went along with it.

“Okay. Fine. I’ll be back with something for you to drink…Lucius.” The only response he got was for the man’s eyes to close and his hand to release his wrist. He couldn’t tell if the man was letting him know he was thirsty, or was just too weak to continue holding his wrist. Either way, the man was now slumped in Harry’s guest bathtub running a high enough fever to cause the cool water to evaporate on contact.

Frowning, Harry moved quickly down stairs and pulled out a cold water bottle from the ice box. Standing there he debated with himself before filling a small bowl with ice cubes. On the way up he grabbed a towel and wash cloth before heading back to the bathroom.

Setting the items down beside the tub, he managed to touch the water. By this time, the temperature of the bath had risen to what most would consider pleasantly warm. He needed to cool it back down if he wanted to keep Lucius body from overheating. He let the water out of the tub, observing the man’s flushed face and how he seemed to be riding the fence between consciousness and the land of dreams. He turned the cold water on as far as it would go before moving to lift the blonde’s head into the crook of his shoulder, his arm holding him steady as he helped the man drink from the bottle of water.

It was a test of patience as Lucius coughed and sputtered as he tried to drink down what he could, once a rhythm had been found the man drain the entire bottle. Harry could feel the tightness in the man’s body begin to release and Harry let the man shift back comfortably in the tub. He turned the water off before sitting back on his heels and just taking in a breath.

Why was he doing this? The elder Malfoy had never been anything but cruel to him. He couldn’t remember a moment that he didn’t detest the man. But here he was now, playing nurse to a man who would turn him over to be tortured and killed at the drop of a hat. He couldn’t give himself a reasonable answer. All he knew was that Lucius Malfoy was in need of help and Harry was the only one available at the moment who could. He didn’t know what had led to this situation, who had given Malfoy a potion that effected the man’s libido, though he was beginning to suspect the man was given an overdose of whatever potion it was. He wouldn’t know about anything until Lucius was back to himself. Perhaps then the man would give him an explanation before, hopefully, getting the hell out of his house.

It looked like Hermione was right after all. He did have a ‘saving-people’ thing.

He picked up the wash cloth and soaped it up until he had a nice lather. Lucius had sweated so much that there was a sickly film across his skin from where the sweat had congealed. He worked the cloth in small circles across the man’s skin making sure to move gently, but firmly. He began with the man’s arms before moving across his chest. He did his best to ignore the man’s nakedness, though it was hard when he had to move past the man’s insistent arousal in order to clean the man’s legs and his feet. This was the most intimate thing he had ever done for anyone, the thought making him bite his lip despite him trying to push back his embarrassment to the furthest reaches of his mind.

He had moved back to wash the man’s face and hair when he realized that Lucius was awake. Awake and _Lucid._ He could feel his face flush but he disregarded it, moving the cloth to gently to swipe across the man’s brow and his cheeks. Lucius’s eyes never left him, the intensity of his focus forcing him to hold back a shiver.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Harry frowned at the man’s question, his voice still rough though it was continuing to get stronger the more he heard it.

“Why are you helping me?” The raven haired man understood the question and every question that came with it. He had just been asking himself that same thing. Why was he helping him? Why help him when all he’d ever done to Harry was make the pathway easier for him to suffer?

Harry stayed quiet for a moment, contemplating his response as he finished Lucius’s neck and ran his hands through the man’s hair in order to detangle it and hopefully rinse some of the sweat from it as well.

“Because I choose to. I don’t have much more of a reason than that.” He watched as the man’s eyes widened a bit before he turned around to grab the towel.

“Come on, Lucius. You should get some rest. The potion will take time to work out of your system. There’s no telling how long that will be.” He said all that while drying the man off and wrapping the towel around his waist before allowing the man to lean on his shoulder as they meandered back into the bedroom. He dropped the man onto the bed, towel and all, before throwing the blanket back over him.

After grabbing the bucket of ice and setting on the side table that had been knocked over, he noticed that Lucius was close to falling asleep.

“You said…something…about a potion.” Guess he wasn’t as a sleep as Harry thought, though his speech was beginning to slur again. A sure sign that the potion was still working through his body.

“You mentioned earlier about having taken a potion. You don’t remember?”

The blonde sighed, lifting a hand weakly to rub at his eyes.

“I don’ know…maybe…You called me Lucius. Why?” Harry frowned at this. What kind of potion did Malfoy take if it was effecting his memory like this?

“You told me to call you by your first name, just a few minutes ago actually. Don’t you remember? I can go back to calling you Malfoy, if you want.” Harry watched as the man’s eyes began to cloud over again, though he did manage to shake his head a bit in the negative.

“No…you can call me…by my…name. I…don’t…mind…if…it’s…,” The man was dead to the world before he could finish the sentence.

Harry gave a light huff before shaking his head, closing the door before heading back downstairs. It was late evening now. The sun had set and the sky was just bright enough not to be called night. He’d fix himself something to eat before heading to bed early. He was tired, the day having been more stressful then he was use to lately, and there was no telling how the next couple days would be until Mal…Lucius’s fever broke.

He sighed at his own thoughts. It would take some getting used to calling the blonde by his first name. The elder Malfoy was surprisingly…manageable when he was this sick. Harry, however, was more concerned with the way the man would act when he was feeling more himself.

 

 

 

 

Harry had good reason to be concerned.

The next couple days, four to be exact, were passed with much the same process as the first. The fever wreaked havoc on Lucius’s body, the glaze of sweat so constant that it became routine to bathe the man both in the morning and evening. He switched often between being delirious and freakishly aware, his senses on overdrive and his skin hypersensitive to the point that simple touches would have the man groaning in pain.

The man’s constant state of arousal had been continuous the entire time, though it was obviously more painful just after the man had woken from a deep sleep. Harry had to battle his own demons at moments, though, when the man became handsy in his quest for relief. After those moments, Lucius would always apologize before passing out completely.

Harry would spend at least thirty minutes in a cold shower, when Lucius would pass out and he could be alone, scrubbing his body from the memory and feeling shame at his own arousal. It was an internal conflict that he pretended he didn’t have, something he hoped would disappear or he could deal with in private once the source of the problem left his house.

Lucius woke on the morning of the fifth day in Harry’s house, his fever having fully broken during the night, just as Harry sat a glass of orange juice and a vegetable broth on the side table. Harry watched, amused though he didn’t show it, as the blond sat up and rubbed his hand across his face, obviously noticing the stubble of facial hair that had grown in the last couple of days. He watched as Lucius looked dazedly down at himself before awareness seemed to settle and his back straighten.

Lucius slowly turned his head to Harry, his eyes narrowed and a frown curling his lips though Harry could see confusion knitted between his brows.

“Potter.” His voice was practically a vibration. “Why the hell am I naked in your bed?!”

 

 

 

****<<<<<>>>>>> ****

When Lucius woke up he felt as though a dragon had tried to devour him only for it to not like the taste and spitting him back out again.

His body ached in places he hadn’t even been aware existed, at least not in a very long time. He could barely string a couple of thoughts together other than how hungry he was and wondering why his face felt so rough. The bed he was lying on was soft, softer than his own bed, and the light streaming from the windows made him wonder if he was dreaming.

He managed to sit up, the scent of something warm and edible making his stomach clench in pain. He looked down and noticed that he had no clothes on, the fabric of the sheet feeling far too close to his skin to be hiding his slacks. The sound of quiet breathing pulled his attention and he turned, doing his best to not let his confusion and irritation show on his face.

The room. The bed. Those green eyes. Why the hell was he in Harry Potter’s bed, and naked at that to boot? He ignored the pleasant feeling that came with the passing thought that something had happened between them and Potter was now bringing him breakfast in bed. It did not bare thinking about, and instead he threw out his main concern verbally, watching as the boy…no, man…frowned before crossing his arms, the movement causing his rounded stomach to be more visible.

“You showed up on my door step five days ago, feverish and on the verge of passing out. You managed to tell me you were calling in your favor and for me to hide you before you really did pass out and I managed to drag you inside. That’s when I realized that you were running such a high fever to the point you were literally steaming, your sweat or whatever had wet your clothes was evaporating the moment it touched your skin. At some point you managed to tell me you had taken some sort of potion.” Potter sighed before moving and sitting on the edge of the bed. It was his bed so Lucius swallowed his own reaction, his attention focused on Potter as the man tilted his head back as if he was deliberating on what to tell him.

“I’m not that good at potions so figured your safest bet was to allow the potion to work through your system, though I suspect that whatever potion you took, it was an overdose. Either way, I tried to let you sweat it out, and you did for the most part, but you had…reactions…and I put you in a tub of a cool water to calm you down.” Lucius frowned as Potter quirked an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Do you truly not remember?” He remembered some things. Bits and pieces that seemed more like dreams than reality. He remembered the sound of his name on Potter’s lips, he remembered the pleasurable thrum that came with Potter rubbing a soapy cloth against his fevered skin, and he remembered the scent of warm honey and fresh rain as he nuzzled the raven’s skin, felt the warmth of the man’s body against his own.

He tried to swallow past his dry throat only to start coughing. Potter moved quickly to the side table, grabbing the glass of orange juice and helping him sip from it.

Lucius didn’t know how to feel, his eyes never wavering from concerned emerald green as the citrusy burn quenched the dryness in his throat. He had never been taken care of before. Not like this. He had never been looked at with such concern and the heat in his chest frightened him. He craved something he didn’t want to put into words.

He turned his head away and gazed at the window in hopes of getting his bearings. He couldn’t think these things right now, not with Potter so close.

“I remember some things. I remember being in pain and constantly hot. I remember pulling at my shirt. I remember wanting to die, though I can’t remember why.”

He turned back to look at Potter, managing to catch the look of surprise before it melted back into confused curiosity.

“How about before? What was the last thing you remember before you came here? What was the last clear memory you have?”

Humming he lifted his hand to rub against his eyebrows, the nervous tick of his acting up and he noticed Potter noticing it. He quickly let his hand drop, with a sigh. He clearly wasn’t in top form today if Potter was beginning to take note.

“I remember leaving your house and going home. I remember pouring a tumbler of grandberry wine before looking over some documents in my office. I remember…something…” It started blurring from that point. He had been looking over the contract, something about it ringing bells in his mind, before the cruel edge of a voice he couldn’t tell was a male or female spoke, the words a jumbled mess, and then everything seemed to drift apart.

He didn’t think he had had his memory erased. It felt as though a haze was covering up his mind, all the memories and information he needed were there but it kept slipping between his mental fingers. He couldn’t grasp it.

The bed dipped and he felt Potter stand up, his arms lifting over his head in a stretch.

“Sounds like someone just might be after your head, Lucius.” His eyebrows rose at that, watching as the raven haired man moved lithely across the room towards a closet.

Perhaps the memory of Potter saying his name wasn’t a dream after all. If it wasn’t, then neither were the others. Just what had happened in the last couple of days?

“Since when do you call me by my name?”

“Since you gave me permission to. Quite a few times actually, since you kept forgetting that you had. I can always go back to calling you Malfoy if you want.” He pretended as if he hadn’t heard the last part, watching as Potter came from the closet with his boots, cloak, and clothes.

“Here are your things. The shirt was unsalvageable, so you’ll have to make due with everything else. Once you eat and are on your feet, you can leave.”

Lucius allowed amusement to show on his face in hopes of hiding the hurt he felt. Though he had a suspicion that he didn’t hide it well.

“Are you trying to get rid of me already?”

“Honestly? Yes.” Potter scratched his head before letting his hand rest on his stomach. “Look, Lucius, let’s be real. You hate me. You have always hated me and I am not exactly a friend of yours. I took you in until you were up and running, but now that you are I don’t expect you to stay. What more do you want from me?”

Lucius frowned to himself, eyeing the man consideringly.

“There’s a problem with that, Mr. Potter.”

“Oh? Do tell.” Potter’s voice was mocking, but Lucius ignored it.

“When I came here I cashed in on my favor. You may not have made an unbreakable vow like I did, but you’re a Gryffindor. Just giving your word that you will do something is practically the same thing. You are too honorable to do otherwise. That being said, I asked for you to hide me. Hide me from what, I don’t remember. The only thing we do know is that someone dosed me with an unknown potion for an unknown reason. Till I figure out who it is and why they did it, I can’t go home. I can’t go anywhere. I asked you to hide me. Will you go back on your word and do otherwise?”

Lucius practically reveled in the flames that licked from Potter’s emerald eyes, the raven haired man’s jaw was so tight he wondered if his teeth would crack.

“I didn’t think so. I’m still tired. I will call you if I need anything.” Lucius let a lazy smirk cross his face before he turned over with his back to the man, listening at the frustrated breathing behind him.

When Potter slammed the door closed he let out a dark chuckle before snuggling deeper into the bed and closing his eyes. He really was tired, after all.

 

 

****<<<<<<>>>>>>****

 

 

 

Harry fumed as he stomped down the stairs. What he wouldn’t give to have a wand he could actually use right now.

Lucius Malfoy was someone who could make Harry’s nails break with the need to pull out his own hair. He had never met a person who could irritate him so. And now that person would be living in Harry’s house. Not because Harry had made an unbreakable vow. Oh no. It was because Harry was too _honorable_ to say otherwise. Harry wouldn’t throw a person out who was in danger and had requested safety after upholding their side of a bargain. And it must be true that Malfoy had never told Voldemort about Harry, otherwise Harry would be dead right now.

He never expected for things to end up this way.

Harry drummed his fingers on his kitchen table in contemplation. Perhaps it wasn’t too late, though. He still had his own Slytherin side he could rely on. And that side was telling him that where there is a will, there is a way.

He needed to go to Gringotts. Perhaps while there he could look for a wand, one without the trace on it.

He could go right now, actually. He didn’t answer to Malfoy. He could go right now and still be upholding his side of the bargain because Malfoy would still be hidden. Hidden as long as he didn’t leave the house.

He smiled lightly, his eyes gazing mischievously up at the ceiling before grabbing his invisibility cloak and wand. He couldn’t use it because of the trace, but better to be safe than sorry. After slipping from the house he walked down the street and called for Dobby, the excitable elf being happy to bring him to Diagon Alley.

And if he missed the scurrying sounds of a rat moving further down the road, then who could blame him.

 

 

 

 


	3. Scuttle

Walk By Shredded Faith

_By: Bungie_

 

 **Summary** : “If I didn’t know you were a man, I’d say you were pregnant.” They had laughed about it then, but the longer it went on the more he thought about it. The more he thought about it the more he worried.

Something happen the night Death Eaters invaded Hogwarts. Lucius Malfoy stumbled upon those repercussions and life was never the same.

 

 **Rating** : M with MA moments further down the line. If I choose to put explicit scenes in here I will either forewarn you or censor them and have them posted on AO3.

 

 **My Beta:** So it’s been over a year since I wrote on this story and I know my Beta is completely through with me so I want to publicly repent for that. I am openly admitting now that I sporadically update depending on how free I am and how inspired I when it comes to my stories. If my Beta is still open to helping me, I’d appreciate it…if not then I guess I’m out of luck.

 

 **Disclaime** r: I own nothing that is recognizable from Harry Potter Canon. Any original characters, ooc moments, or other such nonsense I take full credit for. Not that I get paid for it either way.

 

 **Pairing:** Lucius/ Harry Potter

 

 **Warnings:** This is slash! So…don’t like don’t read. You have been forewarned so don’t flame me or I’ll have to get mean. You won’t like me when I’m mean.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 3: Scuttle

 

Harry pulled his hood further down as he stood in front of Gigot’s, his hand rubbing small circles over his rounded stomach as a sort of mindless comforting motion. He was due to return back to the healer soon, he noted, and would have to plan ahead for that outing just so something like _Malfoy_ didn’t happen again.

            He sucked his teeth at the thought of the man…laying in one of his beds and acting like he owned the place after Harry had taken the time to nurse him back to health. He didn’t owe the man anything, damn it! Why couldn’t he be like a normal human being, thank him and then leave to deal with his own mess by himself?

            Harry shook his head. He wasn’t supposed to let anything cause him stress and here one of the most stressful things that could happen was living in his house.

            He supposed he should be grateful that it was Lucius and not Tom Riddle himself. There had to be a silver lining in all of this, no matter how thin said lining was. Nodding at that, he pushed forward and entered the shop.

            Gigot’s was a small shop from the outside, taking up no more then the very corner between an antique shop and a building where, Harry noted, people when in but never came out. It existed on the furthest side of Knocturne Alley, the shadows making it one of the most obscure buildings in the section. It’s decrepit sign hung from fraying wires and the darkened windows were more from the dust on the glass surface then from the black curtains.

            Once you went in, however, it was completely different.

            When Harry had first stumbled upon the place, he’d half wondered if he’d been pulled into a small portion of a different dimension. Perhaps he had.

            The inside had a severe expansion charm that had been stabilized by ruins at each corner of the room so it would never fail. The walls were painted with flecks of golden paint, the midnight blue color of the previous wall color seeping through, and the furniture, that sat in the very center, was of bright blue fabric with pale wood. Huge golden, lanterns floated near the walls and were covered with white lace, casting a bright ethereal glow over the whole place. The room was a maze of black coated bookshelves that, quite literally, stretched up endlessly. Harry had spent much time here, gazing up, and trying to find the top of the shelves but never could. Said shelves were filled with everything: books, potion ingredients, slightly dusty artifacts, and paintings of ancient people who had been lost to time.

            Harry had even spotted a shrunken mermaid once, swimming around in what looked to be a muggle fish tank. He tried to have a conversation with it; but that relationship was cut short when the mischievous thing had pushed it’s palms together and squirted a stream of water at his face.

            All in all it was an enchanting place, but by far the strangest thing was the owner.

            Hector Gigot was a French man with barely an accent who had come here to escape Grindlewald when he was in his late teens, or so he had informed Harry. Regardless, the man looked ageless. His hair was long, golden blonde that he kept tied in a high pony tail, his skin sun kissed, and his eyes were a bright gold that Harry discovered was because Hector was a born Lycanthrope, both of his parents were werewolves and he inherited their genes, though the only thing to happen to him on the full moon was a hair trigger temper and an intense taste for red meat. The one thing that showed his age was his platinum blonde beard, one that hung from the pointed part of his chin and reached his chest where it curled at the end in a spiral of sharp angles.

            The man’s eccentricity reminded him of Ollivander, though his wildness was a bit different.

            “HARRY! I’ve missed you!” The man in question had draped himself across Harry’s back, his face nuzzling the young man’s cheek. “You have the softest cheeks, Young Harry.” The teen flushed, pushing the slender man off of him and straightening his body. The sudden weight had caused his legs to shake slightly and he couldn’t afford to get tired while he was here.

            “Good afternoon, Mr. Gigot. How are you?” The man’s face crumpled as if he had been given the greatest offense and he wailed as he fell onto the sofa.

            “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Hector? Why must you treat me so cruelly, Harry? Have I done something wrong? Tell me and I’ll remedy it as soon as possible!” Harry watched in a mix of resignation and distaste as the man pulled the fabric of his white shirt during his performance.

            “You have done nothing wrong, Mr. Gigot, and you know it.” The wails suddenly ceased and Harry found himself on the end of a calculating gaze.

            “Oh, I see. You believe that by calling me by my last name it will create some distance between us, regardless of how invisible that distance is.” The man stood from his seat and walked till he was in front of the green-eyed teen, his hand reaching out to caress the smooth cheek there.

            Harry couldn’t help but shudder at the lightness of the touch and the intent he saw behind golden eyes.

            “I assure you, my dear Harry, that nothing you do will make me not want you.” The teen shook his head in exasperation before gesturing at his midriff.

            “You still want me even though I am pregnant? You can’t possibly think I believe that.” Hector chuckled, the youthfulness of his face only being tempered by the hand stroking his beard.

            “I am part beast, Harry. That part of me sees your…fruitfulness more than attractive, trust me.” Harry bit his lip as the blood leapt to his face, the heat of it causing him even more embarrassment. Hector simply chuckled, before backing off and heading towards his desk.

            “Now that I know you are being intentional about keeping your distance, I know you haven’t come for small talk. What can I do for you, dear Harry?” The green-eyed teen cleared his throat and attempted to get his barring.

            “Um…I was wondering if you had any books on the Fidelius charm…and perhaps you know of a way for me to get a wand without the trace on it. At least a way besides the one you offered last time.” Hector continued to watch him, a contemplative hum sounding from his throat.

            “My, my, Harry…you are being rather naughty. You do know that your people are looking high and low, for you right? So are…those less than savory characters. I’ve seen them stalking the shadows in Knocturn Alley, asking questions. Both light and dark sides, at that. One must wander who it is that you’re trying to hide from.”

            Harry’s hands rested on his stomach with a frown.

            “Both of them. All of them.” A quick, feral smile stretched Hector’s face.

            “Indeed.” The tension was broken when the blonde threw his hands up and practically danced towards a door that led somewhere Harry had never been. “Let me look and see what I have, my dear, just wait out here.”

            Harry shook his head and flopped onto the couch, his feet stretched out in front of him on a cream feathered rug that never got dirty. His eyes focused above him, always entranced at the sight of dozens of shelves stretching up endlessly. His mind was in a strange state of quiet busyness, there was many thoughts floating around but he couldn’t find the care to be upset by them.

            He never could when he was here.

            This place always had a presence about it, ever since he had stumbled into it a month or so ago.

 

_Harry was walking quickly through the back streets of Knocturn, the sound of heavy footsteps following behind him as he pulled the dark cloak tighter. The echo of movement had stayed close ever since he had stepped into this Alley from Diagon. Every time he had fastened his walk, the sound matched so he knew he was being followed, but to turn around would be to acknowledge it and confront whoever…or whatever it was._

_He couldn’t afford a confrontation right now._

_He had only decided to stay our of the wizarding world for maybe a month and had entered it for the express purpose of getting some money to convert into muggle money. He had stepped into the Alley for a moment with the intention of catching his breath in a shadowed area, the baby was beginning to put a strain on his reserves and his body was becoming acclimated to it. The results being that he no longer had the energy he was use to._

_He had stumbled and found himself bracing against a wall when the footsteps behind him had increased to the point of running. Adrenaline had shot through his body when he realized that the person was planning on taking advantage of his weakening state. His had grabbed his wand and began turning around to deal with the problem, even though his stomach had sunk at the thought of what was about to happen, when a hand had come out of nowhere and pulled him into the door of the building he was leaning against._

_It had gone from pitched black to bright gold in a split second as whoever had dragged him in closed the door behind them and shut the darkness out. A golden face appeared in front of him, and that’s all he could think of, how golden the man was. He reminded him of a dulled light bulb when it was turned on: from his hair to his skin to his eyes, everything was gold._

_And yet that didn’t take away from the strange energy the man seemed to have. Harry couldn’t have labeled him with an age if he tried. His face was a face that could be in the late twenties or early fifties, and that was only because the beard he sported added to his age. His eyes, however, were firm and intense, as he looked the teen over._

_It was at this moment that Harry realized that he was sprawled in a undignified heap while the man’s arms were around his shoulders, keeping him steady. His hood had fallen back until he was entirely exposed and his stomach was only a slight protrusion at this point, though it was still noticeable for what it was._

_Suddenly shy, Harry shifted til he could stand on his own, his legs still a little shaky from the nerves._

_“Thank you for helping me, Mr.…?” The man smiled, taking Harry’s extended hand and gripping it firmly without doing anything else._

_“Hector Gigot. The pleasure was all mine. And you are?” Harry frowned for a moment, a bit confused to find someone who didn’t immediately know who he was._

_“Harry Potter.” Realization hit the man’s eyes, his hand never once releasing Harry’s. The action was beginning to make the teen nervous._

_“You’ll have to forgive me, young Harry. I don’t often venture from my shop and though I know of you, I didn’t know what you looked like. I definitely hadn’t heard that you were so beautiful.” A surprised blush lit up the teen’s face as he tried to take his hand back, though the man refused to release it, his eyes continuing to be focused on Harry in an unwavering way._

_“Um…thank you, Mr. Gigot. I appreciate what you have done for me, but I must be on my way.” Suddenly, it was as though the man’s personality flipped._

_“Nonsense. And call me Hector, I insist. Where are my manners?” He released Harry’s hand, moving his own to rest at the small of Harry’s back._

_“You must stay. I’ll serve something and you can tell me what you need.”_

_“What I need?”_

_“Oh yes.” Harry found himself sitting on the couch in the center of the room, one that faced an equally comfortable, bright blue couch. “My shop is enchanted, you see. Only certain people can find it, and amongst those who can find it, only those who my shop can help will the shop reveal itself to. It’s pretty amazing, if I do say so myself. And I do. Just sit there and I’ll be back.” The man spun in a way that he’d only seen Luna do, a kind of carefree movement, as he disappeared through a door. A few minutes later saw him back with a floating tray of soft sugar cookies and an orange tea that Harry had never had before, though the scent was both soothing and refreshing._

_“Now Harry, let’s talk.”_

_That day, Harry had walked away with a potential opportunity for a wand without a trace, though he wasn’t sure about the cost he would have to give in exchange, and a confidant who he could go to about what was going on, someone who could help him…for a cost._

_Even if that confidant was strange._

            Said man skipped back into the room a good ten minutes later with a book and a purple, wooden box. He sat both items on a side table before he sat beside Harry.

            “Now, Harry, before I show you what I have we must discuss payment.” The teen panicked a bit, though his face never showed it. He swallowed it down as he nodded his head.

            “You already know what I want for the wand.” The man leered at the teen slightly, though Harry never saw it since he had glanced away.

            “My blood.”

            “Yes. I’ll need it to help in the creation of the wand.”

            “Can’t I just find a wand that’ll match me.” Hector sighed in mock exasperation.

            “Harry, Harry. Indeed you could just walk up to a wand and see if one likes you. That’s how Ollivander does his wands, but the wandmaker I’m in business with does it a bit differently. Every wandmaker has a way they personally go about wands, some use certain cores that others wouldn’t, some can hear the magic in woods, and etc. The wandmaker I’m talking about is off the books and does not deal with the ministry. He is often called by the purebloods of our world to make traceless wands for their children. He needs blood though. I don’t know why. He won’t know it’s you I’m having the wand commissioned for, however, so there’s no need to worry that he’ll want to keep it.”

            Harry frowned before nodding.

            “I understand.” Hector nodded and clapped his hands with a smile, reaching beside him grabbing the book. Harry noted that it was a thick thing with no cover title, the binding was old enough to be made of faded wood and the sheets of parchment had roughened edges.

            “This book is very old, but it is the only thing I have in my stores that has the Fidelius charm.” Harry eyed the man as he watched tanned hands run across the cover in a slightly reverent way. The slight longing he saw on Hector’s face was strange, and curious since he had no idea why this book was so important.

            “I could always bring it back. Or perhaps simply copy the charm.” The man shook his head, his eyes never really leaving the cover of the book for more than a glance.

            “No. The book has an everlasting spell, or rather enchantment, on it to never let anything in it be copied. And if I give it to you, I can never take it back. It’s part of the enchantment.” Harry had never heard of anything like this before, his lips pursing as he contemplated it.

            “You know my rules, Harry. Everything I sell must have an exchange of equal value. What are you willing to trade?” Harry was already shaking his head by the end of question.

            “I have no idea what to give you. What do you want?” Hector stared at him for a moment before a gentle smile stretched across his face.

            “How about a favor? You do something for me, one time and for whatever I ask as long as it is of equal value, whenever I request it?” The teen thought for a moment, wandering what could be asked of him that could equal the value of a book. It was a book with amazing enchantments on it, but still a book nonetheless.

            Finally, he nodded his head. He needed the fidelius charm. At the end of the day, that could mean the difference between life and death for him. Whatever favor was requested, he would just have to deal with it then.

            Still smiling, Hector passed the book to Harry, the teen noting the static like feel of the book as it sat against his skin. It made the hairs on his arms rise before it settled into a calming hum. He lifted his head to raise a brow at Hector, but the man was already reaching for the last object.

            The man held the box gingerly, opening it by pulling at the slight groove on the top. Inside sat a dark purple stone, almost black, that was the same size as a baseball and was as smooth as glass.

            “This is a Dark Amethyst Stone. It is exceedingly rare and one of the few stones that are receptive to certain types of magic. This particular stone has been enchanted, the magic stabilized by runes engraved on the inside of the stone. If you take this stone and bury it beneath your property, it will give an illusion to those that are hunting you that your residence is a place that few will try to actually live. They could be standing in the very same room as you and never see you, they’d only see a decrepit building or whatever is needed to get them to believe no one lives there.”

            Harry’s breath caught. That was amazing. If he had that, he might not even have to put up the Fidelius. Hector obviously could see the idea written on his face as he continued.

            “It is exceedingly Dark magic, though I don’t think that matters much to you currently.” He eyed the teen’s stomach and Harry could read between the lines. No. It didn’t matter. He just wanted to protect his child. “Unfortunately, this is not a permanent fix. Because of its dark qualities, those who have Dark magic can sense it. Not immediately, of course. But it will become noticeable the more they come near it. It offers only an illusion, after all.”

            The green-eyed teen nodded. He could use it only as a safety net as he was preparing the Fidelius. Now that Malfoy was in his house that would actually be something necessary. Not to mention that he still didn’t have a wand, and probably wouldn’t have one for a little while longer. He needed the time.

            “Okay. What do you want in exchange, for it?”

            “No. You misunderstand me, Harry. I’m not selling it to you.” Harry looked at gold eyes with confusion, a slight fear surfacing in his thoughts. If he couldn’t have this, what was he going to do in the time he was waiting to put up the charm?

            “I’m giving it to you. If I sold it to you, I would ask for something in exchange. I’m giving this to you instead.” Hector closed the box and placed it on top of the book sitting on Harry’s lap. Not that Harry wasn’t grateful, but…

            “Why?”

            The man sighed, his hand reaching up to pull his pony tail to the front and twirl it around his slender fingers.

            “Honestly? I want you to be safe.” Hector’s eyes glowed lightly as he eyed Harry, the teen forced to look to the sided at the hidden thoughts behind that gaze. A finger beneath the teen’s chin forced the boy’s gaze back. “I need you to be safe, Harry. I have grown rather…fond of you over the last couple of months. If I sent you back out now that I know you have no wand to use and no real protection til you have one, I’d be a certain kind of fool, don’t you think?” Harry didn’t have time to nod before the man was jumping up and pulling the teen up with him.

            “Now, before you go I’ll need that blood we agreed upon.” He pulled a glass vial from his robes, grabbed Harry’s hand before casting a softly spoken spell that sliced at the tender skin of Harry’s fingertips. The teen didn’t even wince, far to use to such pain though the suddenness of it was unbalancing. Hector squeezed exactly eight drops of blood before he cast a healing spell, stoppering up the vial and hiding it back within his robes.

            “Well Harry,” the man placed one hand on the small of the teen’s back again, and began steering him towards the door, “it’s been a pleasure as it always is when you are here. I’m already looking forward to the next time. Now it’s beginning to get late and I’d hate for you to be wandering around London so late at night. I insist that you get home quickly and, for Merlin sake, eat something. You can’t expect that little bundle of joy to grow strong if you’re allowing yourself to whither away, can you?” Startled, Harry could do nothing but clutch his purchases in one hand while Hector gripped the other, kissing it roguishly, before literally twirling the teen out the door.

            “Come back in five days. What you need will be ready then.” The man gently closed the door after that, leaving the boy in the fading shadows in front of his shop.

            Harry eyed the swinging sign, part of him hoping the whole thing just broke off and somehow swung into the shop’s deceivingly fragile glass window. He huffed before turning away.

            The man was right about one thing. He needed to eat something.

 

Xxx

 

            Hector watched from the window unseen as the young man walked away from the shop. He smiled slyly, rubbing the still warm vial of blood within his robes. He’d give the wandmaker what he needed, but by rights of exchange the rest of the blood would be his.

            It wasn’t so often that someone as refreshingly sweet and naïve as Harry wandered into this part of the Alley. And he had never lied to the boy. The truth was he did want him. It was hard enough acting appropriately when the green-eyed minx was sitting so close to him, body obviously ripe enough to conceive a child by magic itself.

Hector hummed at the thought as he turned away.

Once the thing inside Harry was born, he’d have to get rid of it. Plans for that were already working in his mind as he sat the vial somewhere safely tucked away. Once that was done, he’d easily tie Harry to himself. There were so many things he wanted to do to the teen, so many things he was holding himself back from.

He was of the belief that good things come to those who wait, though.

A growl worked itself from the pits of his chest and vibrated in his throat. He knew his eyes were probably glowing, always did when it got closer to the full moon and it was just five more days before that happened.

A sudden thought crossed his mind.

“Damn. I forgot to tell him about the side effects.” It wouldn’t be good to use the stone too long for more than one reason. He sighed and stroked his beard as he prepared to go meet with the wandmaker. He’d just have to tell the teen the next time he saw him.

Xxx

 

When Lucius awoke a few hours later it was to the uncomfortable feeling of wet sheets and a stomach aching from hunger. The last vestiges of his fever must have sweated out while he slept and it clung to him in a glaze of stickiness. He couldn’t find his wand and his magic, which normally cycled through his body like a cool stream felt more like a sputtering flame. It was hot, in a itchy sort of way, and fizzled in places that certainly made him wary of using magic any time soon.

The realization made him feel extremely vulnerable. He moved to stand, the sheets slipping from his naked body as his legs wavered beneath him. He took it slow, building up his strength with the goal of moving towards the bathroom.

A part of him wanted to call for Potter, the same part that loved to irritate the teen, but he silenced it. He had been vulnerable enough in front of the teen while recovering from whatever happened to him to add any more embarrassment, especially when he was awake and aware of it.

He managed to enter into the shower and relaxed under the onslaught of heat, the warmth working knots from his muscles. He didn’t stay in there long though, the ongoing heat quickly turning unacceptable when combined with what was going on inside of him. He slipped out and dried off with a folded towel that was sitting neatly on the counter.

He frowned. That was another thing Potter had done as a show of care, most likely without even meaning to.

He shook his head, wrapped the towel around his waist, and looked around for something to wear.

As Potter had said, all that was available for him to wear were his pants, which had been cleaned, his boots, and his cloak. He quickly donned the pants, leaving everything else behind. He would normally never allow himself to be anything less than presentable, but he found this time quickly being the exception.

He couldn’t do much about his clothes; he had no wand and wouldn’t use his magic even if he had. His legs were still wobbly, and he wasn’t keen on making a fool of his self by strutting around in dragon hide boots only to fall flat on his face.

Besides, it’s not like Potter would tell anyone. Not while he was in hiding anyway. He probably would never even admit that he let Lucius into his house, if he pegged the Gryffindor right. Not the type to tell others about things he knew they would persecute him over. And Lucius knew that they would persecute him; the light always did that when a member of their own showed any kindness to those with dark magic.

Lucius knew this as truth. The pain of that lesson still marked him.

He left the room as quietly as he could, noting the soundlessness of the small cabin. He walked by the only other door on the floor he was on, obviously Potter’s bedroom. His hand reached out and turned the knob, but it wouldn’t budge. Locked.

His shoulders sagged with irritation. A locked door was not something he normally found difficult to bypass, but now he couldn’t even get through such a mediocre hurtle. He sucked his teeth, suddenly wondering if Potter had done this on purpose. It didn’t much matter if he did, it didn’t change the fact that Lucius was feeling…plebian. Even, dare he say it…muggle.

The very thought of it made him feel slightly sick. He turned from the door and continued on his way, his shaky limbs carrying him down the stairs until he was in the living room that he had only caught a passing glimpse of when he arrived. The leather couch was pushed up against a wall with a warm looking dark blue quilt with silver stars that were spelled to move and twinkle like real stars laid across one of the arms. A round coffee table sat in front of it, the top of it glass and the legs made from elegantly curved wood. Across it sat a matching love seat while a lounge chair, one that was gray in color and decorated with an array of brown buttons, was pushed up against a bay window, the glass leaking warm sunlight against the thick fabric. A rolling table sat near it with two books sitting open on it. He noted the authors with surprise, though only one of them caused him to frown.

“Delilah…” That woman was nothing short of a headache he’d spend more money then he wanted to avoid. The less spoken about her, the better. Though he wasn’t enough of a fool to dismiss her accomplishments or her capabilities, his issues with her were for a far different reason.

He turned his attention back to the room, eyeing the small kitchen and the stone fireplace and noting, that unless potter was in his room, then he wasn’t here. If he had been in his room, then he would have heard Lucius when the man had tested his bedroom door.

“Perhaps he’s in the bathroom…” He murmured quietly. The sound was still loud enough to echo in the small room. His lips drew up in a thin line, his hand coming up to rub at his brow. He didn’t remember hearing the sound of running water. Of course, that still didn’t mean that the green-eyed teen wasn’t up in his room. Just that Lucius hadn’t heard him.

Though the quietness certainly had the feel that he was alone.

Had Potter truly left him alone? The thought stung and he didn’t know why. Mentally he was impressed that the young man had found a way to get around the deal that Lucius had made. And now that he thought about it, the teen could leave Lucius right here. If there was a certainty that the young man had made sure that Lucius was as safe as he could make him, he could quite literally walk out the door and never come back.

The sting he was feeling moved quickly into anger. He didn’t appreciate someone being so conniving as to just leave him here without so much as a goodbye. At least not when he was on the other end of it. Lucius was already feeling vulnerable, feeling the most alone he had ever felt in his life. He couldn’t go home because he was sure that was where he was when all of this happened. That meant that someone who could get into his home, at the very least, was the one who hurt him. He didn’t have his wand and he couldn’t use his magic.

Now that his thoughts were on a roll, he couldn’t stop them. He was beginning to realize that there wasn’t much he knew how to do without magic. He didn’t know how to cook, never having to learn since there were things such as house elves, and didn’t know how to get a hold of some food in the first place. He didn’t know how to mend clothes or how to get new ones other than going to Diagon Alley and he needed to avoid that right now. He didn’t know who his enemy was or even how far that enemy line stretched. The only one he could be sure of was Severus, and he’d have to wait to get a hold of him since he was still under his vow to Potter. He couldn’t do anything that would draw attention to his location.

Standing there in the stillness of a two bedroom cabin that he wouldn’t have stayed in willingly on a normal day, realizing that he was in a precarious predicament that was hampered by a vow he took because of feelings he didn’t understand, and dependent on the very same man that had him emotionally confused with nothing to truly stop said man from leaving him alone saw that Lucius was in a very bad mood when Potter walked through the door.

Potter’s flushed face and contemplating expression didn’t help.

“Where the hell have you been?” He growled. The young man startled badly, his small body leaping a full foot in the air before turning to him, his bright eyes widening when he focused on Lucius.

 

Xxx

 

“Say what now?” He squeaked.

The last thing Harry expected to see when he walked into his home, his mind replaying what happened at Gigot’s, was a pissed off Lucius. A pissed off Lucius that was standing barefoot in the middle of his living room, arms crossed and feet apart, with no shirt on, his pale skin available for all eyes to see. His face was slightly grizzled from the lack of a shave over the last couple of days, the normally silky locks of hair that stayed tied back were wild around the man’s face, and his eyes were narrowed silver slits as they stabbed into Harry.

The teen didn’t hold it against him self when all he could get out was a mumbled squeak.

 _“Holy shit._ ” He could feel his face heat and he turned away to hide it. If the man was planning on walking around his place like that then things would quickly become a problem. He’d have to plan to get the Lucius some clothes.

He didn’t plan for the man to cross the room behind him, spinning him around, only giving him time to place the book and box on the counter, before he found arms trapping him against the granite counter top behind him. He eyed the man in front of him warily, the warmth of the man’s skin causing him to flush more though he tried valiantly to ignore it, staring instead at the silver gaze directed at him with defiance.

“I asked where have you been?” Harry could tell the words were gritted out in a semblance of forced calm. Though it didn’t stop his own irritation flaring, reminding him of his own anger when he chose to leave in the first place.

“Where I go is none of your business!”

“It is when it’s my life you’re gambling!” Lucius spat.

“Your life? YOUR LIFE! You cocky bastard. I am upholding my end of the deal; though do let me remind you that I made no vow to you, only you did. You should be glad that I’m keeping my word, that keeping my honor means so much to me. But let me remind you, _Lucius,_ that my honor only means so much as long as I care. I care enough right now _not_ to walk out that door and leave you just as defenseless as I have been, but piss me off enough and that’ll change!”

“Are you threatening me, Potter?” Malfoy’s eyes were practically gleaming sheets of metal. He had never seen the man so roweled up, though he was never one to be easily cowed.

“No, I’m promising you.”

They stood for a long moment, both staring at the other waiting for the next move. Harry watched as Lucius’s face shifted, anger moving into confusion and then into what looked to be curious contemplation, the man’s eyes continuously roving across Harry’s still heated face.

A quick flash of realization was hidden behind a smirk as the man pulled back, his arms falling down by his sides as he backed up a bit to give the young man his space. Harry eyed him speculatively.

“Very well, Potter. We’ll play this game your way, though I’m not sure you can keep up.” Harry’s hackles rose and he didn’t even understand why.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Lucius ignored him, his arms folding across his chest and his eyes drifting behind him.

“What’s in the box?” The teen sucked his teeth, his breath coming out in shaky whoosh. He’d allow the confrontation to die for now. Turning around he grabbed the box and picked it up. He wasn’t surprised that Lucius could feel the dark magic coming from it.

He opened the top and handed the box to the man, watching as silver eyebrows rose, his eyes shifting between the stone, Harry, and back again.

“You know what this is, right?”

“Of course I do.” Harry completely ignored the fact he had only known what it was for a couple of hours.

“And you’re still planning to use it? You’re actually okay with using it?” The teen rubbed his stomach, as had become habit when he was reminding himself why he did certain things.

“I don’t have much choice. Until I have a wand, I cannot put the Fidelius charm up. I’ll have a wand in a couple of days, but til then I’ll need a safety net. I have no idea what kind of trouble may have followed you, or if it followed you at all. Even if you hadn’t come, sooner or later they would find me. I need something to help deviate their attention until I can put up the charm. This was the only thing that can momentarily fix my problem. Our problem. I know it’s not permanent, but it’s the best I’ve got.”

Lucius continued to gaze at him lazily as he rubbed his hands against the edge of the box.

“Hmmm…you are certainly full of surprises, Mr. Potter. Come, burying this would be better if we had a wand, but since we don’t we’ll have to dig through the softened soil nearest the cabin.” The man turned and walked towards his back door, his eyes glancing out the window for a moment.

Harry stood still, his equilibrium thrown off for a moment. He didn’t know how to handle a healthy and amenable Lucius Malfoy, not when he was used to dealing with his less then nice self. He shook his head and unstuck his feet. Perhaps the man had taken what Harry had said to heart. Perhaps he was calling a truce for the current time that Harry was helping him.

He wasn’t so sure though and couldn’t help the suspicious glance he sent the man as they dug through the brown dirt beneath his window.

 

Xxx

 

“You better not be lying to me, Wormtail. I’ve grown very tired of your failures and your uses have long since dried up. “ Peter Petegrew shuddered at the sound of the snake-like man’s irritated tone. Lord Voldemort’s voice was a different kind of cruelty. It could be smooth like silk and yet striking with the hissing quality that parseltongue gave words, not unlike pulling a sword from a metal scabbard.

“If you are right, I’ll reward you. If not…” Words were not needed as red eyes focused on the slinking form of his familiar. Nagini hissed at her master, her body sliding up the side of his chair and curving to lean her head against his neck. His hand reached up and stroke the serpent beneath her chin, a slight smile creasing his lipless face as he listened to her satisfied hisses.

“Send for Bella, Peter. We’ll leave tonight to investigate. If what you say is true then the whereabouts of Harry Potter have been discovered. And I will enjoy the conversation I have with Lucius about why he decided to withhold this particular information from me.”

Long, colorless fingers scratched at Nagini’s scales. Small flakes of shedding snake skin pealed away under his administrations.

“It speaks of treachery. Traitors don’t live long lives…isn’t that right Wormtail?”

The rodent-like man could only shudder in response.

 

 

 

A/N: I’m sorry it’s been so long. Things began to really pick up in my life and that’s on top of the fact that I’m not the quickest person to update. I never leave a story, though. I’ll always come back to it, regardless of how long it’s been since I last updated.

 

Interesting Note: I never planned to create Hector Gigot. I accidentally misspelled Gringotts in the first chapter and didn’t feel like fixing that so it led to the creation of one my more interesting characters. Gigot is the French word for Leg and it is pronounced:Jee-go.

 

Hope this was a good chapter. Please review…Your great reviews always motivate me.

 


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